Arrow Lake Drifters

 

the four-year had continued her path north, judging her decisions by the basis of whim and luck. there was a deep-rooted aversion to the mountains that loomed to the west. aiwë could not bring to mind exact memories of the events that had driven her from her son's side but there were flashes of brutal tumbling and careening, the crash of stone ringing in her ears, the sound of mountains tearing themselves asunder.

and, of course, the gut wrenching pain of searching for the child she'd lost in the snow.

the paintwolf wasn't ready to face the trails winding through the stone monoliths. 

the east imbued her with a sense of uprooted terror. the south was not much different. 

but the north sung of fever, of festering fire that crept along her spine, the warmth of a daughter tucked against her chest. 

it was the only thing that made sense anymore. 

thus, the four-year set out as fast as her hindered legs could take her, loping lopsidedly on account of her ruined limb. through the forests of vixens and across the seas of budding green until she'd reached the edges of a loch that nestled against the distant base of the ridge. 

the elven nymph wasn't sure when she'd reach freshwater again. her memory only drew dark blanks. instinct pulled her to the edges of the lake, bending stiffly to lap vivaciously at the water -- which still held a hint of winter's chill. 

straightening slowly, it was then that she spotted a far off figure of ebony -- latching to it and good ear swivelling forward as she surveyed her surroundings. 

a low, curious note escaped her without thinking, surely only a murmur to the stranger when it reached their auds.